Childhood Tale
by Midstorm1
Summary: In the Dark Castle Belle tells Rumple her favorite story.


Childhood Tales

**little-inkstone**: Maybe Rumplestiltskin brings Belle a book back from a deal that she mentioned she wanted to read, but it was rare so she thought she never would.

**Author's Note**: It's based on the prompt, but not exactly what was requested.

Belle was sweeping the main hall (she really had no idea where all the dust came from) when Rumplestiltskin waltzed in with a basket in his hand. He placed it on the table and went straight to his spinning wheel, without a word to his housekeeper.

A few moments later a cry came from the basket. Belle looked alarmed at the noise, but Rumplestiltskin just waved his hand.

"Take care of that will you dearie?"

Belle rushed over and found a newborn swaddled in a blanket crying his eyes out. She scooped up the baby who quieted once he was securely in his arms. She had been in the castle for months now and found out of the stories and rumors about the Dark One were mostly untrue. But could the tales of the man who snatched babies from their mothers be real?

"Where did you get him?" she asked.

"His stupid mother didn't want him. She rather have riches then a child," he muttered angrily. "She even had him for the wrong reasons, thinking giving birth to a son for a Duke would make all her dreams come true. When that didn't happen, she called on me."

Belle felt sick at the story, staring down at the lovely boy in her arms. Who wouldn't want this sweet child?

"What will become of him?"

"There are many women out there crying for child, I will give him to one of them tomorrow," he said, returning to his spinning. "Until then, take of care him."

Belle went to place the child back in the basket while she ready her room the babe, however the second he was out of her arms, he started crying again. She quickly picked up the child, rocking him, however he still wailed softly.

Belle was one of the oldest unmarried women in her village, which meant most of her friends all had children. She knew the basic of infant care, but when a child got too fussy, she could give the baby back to it's mother, now she didn't have the option.

"What should I do? Is he hungry?" she asked.

"No, he has already eaten a few minutes ago, why don't you talk to him?" Rumplestiltskin suggested his voice oddly quiet.

"I don't know what to say…"

"Tell him a story."

Belle thought back to her own childhood and her mother. While she had a governess growing up, every night her mother made sure to tell her a bedtime story, it was their nightly ritual.

"Once upon a time," Belle began, thinking of her favorite story. "There was peasant who found a gold mortar, he decided to give it to the king, even though his daughter warned him, the king would want a pestle as well."

She noticed the spinning wheel was going slower.

"And the king did just that and when the peasant couldn't give him the pestle, the king threw him in jail. The peasant lamented the fact he didn't listen to his clever daughter. The king intrigued, summoned the daughter, but requested she come to him neither naked nor clothed, neither walking nor riding, neither on the road nor off it. If she did this her father would be free and she would marry the king."

The child in her arms yawned, closing his eyes to go to sleep, but she noticed that Rumplestiltskin was listening to the story. She sat down in the chair by the fire and continued her story.

"The daughter was very clever, she wrapped herself in a fish net, and tied it to a donkey's tail so that it had to drag her along, and she kept only one toe touching the ground. The king agreed that she had guessed the riddle; he freed her father and married her."

"Is that the end of the story?" Rumpelstiltskin asked.

"No, there is more," Belle said, thinking with a frown. "But I don't remember it. My mother use to read the book to me as a child and it was so long ago."

"I don't suppose it is in your library."

"No," she said with a smile, he called it the room _her_ library, even though he did spend just as much time in there as her. "There aren't many children stories there."

Rumplestiltskin smiled sadly and with a wave of his hand and a puff of purple smoke, there was a cradle a few feet away from her. She smiled in thanks, but did not let go of the child just yet.

The next day she woke in the main hall she had fallen asleep in the chair, the cradle empty. She knew it was silly to get attached to the child, when she only had hours with him, but her heart ache at the sight. The baby now had parents who were willing to make a deal with Rumplestiltskin, they would treasure the child forever.

She stretched and noticed Rumplestiltskin was running low on straw, he must have spun throughout the night. She got up to replenish the supply when she saw on the table a very old book.

She picked it up, it was entitled "The Peasant's Wise Daughter." She swiftly turned to the page to see how it ended.

Years later a mare gave birth to a foal that ran off and lay down under an ox. Both the peasant who owned the mare and the one who owned the ox claimed it; the king said it belonged where it was found. The peasant who owned the mare went to the queen for help. She told him to take a fishing net and pretend to fish on dry land where the king would see; when the king said it was impossible, he was to say it was no more impossible than oxen giving birth to foals. The peasant did so, and the king gave him the foal but got from him that the queen had given him the advice.

The queen had angered the king. He sent her back to her father's house but let her take only one thing, what she valued most, from the castle. She gave the king a sleeping draught that night and took him to her father's house. When he woke he found himself in her childhood home.

The queen told him: 'my dear lord and king, you told me I might bring away with me from the palace that which was dearest and most precious in my eyes - I have nothing more precious and dear than yourself, so I have brought you with me."

Belle remembered why this story was her favorite. Both the father and the king valued the girl on her intelligence, no other quality like many of children stories she had read. And while the king was stubborn and a bit rash,, the peasant's daughter still loved him and proved her love through her cleverness.

She looked around the main hall with all it's treasure, the door opened to reveal the master of the castle, who smiled when he saw the book in her hand, and she knew if she had one choice what and who she would chose.


End file.
